Never Alone
by idle curiosity
Summary: This is my first attempt at a songfic. A lonely Elizabeth misses her husband, and finds the strength in memories and dreams to face another day.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own them; the characters belong to Disney, et al. No infringement is intended. Lyrics taken from _**Never Alone**_ by _Barlow Girl_. Again, no infringement is intended.

**"Never Alone"**

**I waited for you today, but you didn't show, no, no, no**

There is nothing different at all about this day, nothing special, nothing that sets it apart from the other days she's marked off as she waits him. Yet today, the need for Will is so strong, so fierce, that she's left her young son with the neighbor woman who's watched him for her before, and made her way towards the ocean's shore before the last flickering of the sun that hovers low in the western sky. She stops near the edge of a rock outcropping above the beach, sets her eyes to the horizon and waits.

_Please ..._

What she strains to see is a flash of green, and the ghostly gray sails of a mythic ship as it sails into the bay, the Ferrier of Souls standing on the rail, leaning out as far as he can as his eyes eagerly search for his adored wife.

And yet, all the while, she knows that she'll never see the _Flying Dutchman_. Not today.

**I needed you today, so where did you go?**

Strange, indeed, are the vagaries of need. The longing for him this particular day has been as sharp and keen as the edge of the knife that is always strapped to his hip, her need for him pulsing and as rhythmic as the blade he'd buried over and over into Tia Dalma's table.

She hurries down the familiar path, and she can feel her heart pounding as she reaches the shore, that fluid, ever-changing, hated boundary that separates her from Will. In the logical part of her mind she calls herself a fool. Yet she cannot help finding herself surprised that he is not there, even though she _knows_ that it is not yet nearly time.

**You told me to call, said you'd be there; and though I haven't seen you, are you still there?**

She kicks off her shoes, peels off her stockings and pulls up on the hem of her skirt, tucking it furiously into the band at her waist. She strides into the surf that pounds relentlessly against the shore, feeling it pushing her away and then pulling her back into its thrall. She stands for a long time, staring at the distant horizon.

The brilliant hues of the sunset begin to fade, and as the warm waters of the ocean continue to swirl around her, she begins to rail, her voice rising to meet the darkening sky.

"Where are you, Will? Where are you? What part of the world's end are you sailing now? Who have you cared for today? Who have you talked to? Who have you touched today, when you can't touch me?" Her voice cracks a bit. "Whose eyes have you looked into, when you can't look into mine?"

She clenches her hands into tight fists at her sides, her body stiff with anger and doubt, jealousy and loneliness.

Finally, her shoulders sag. "Are you even out there at all?" she mutters.

**I cried out with no reply, and I can't feel you by my side**

She stands against the strength of the tide, a warm, salt-laden breeze blowing her hair back from her face. Her eyes sting, and her throat is thick with bitter tears that she refuses to let fall. There is no answer; she knew there wouldn't be. The only sound she hears is the familiar pounding of the surf.

"_I feel nothing_," she remembers Barbossa telling her in the great cabin of the _Pearl _that dark night. And yet the torture of unslaked desire had sharpened the lines of his face and roughened the timbre of his voice. "_Not the wind on my face, nor the spray of the sea ... nor the warmth of a woman's flesh_."

Her breathing hitches. _The warmth of Will's flesh_, she thinks achingly.

For her, there is no chance to trail her fingers over his heated skin as he lies beneath her, no chance to press eager kisses to his waiting lips, no chance to whisper words of love and desire in his ear. There is no chance to bury herself in his embrace.

"It's been so long," she whispers brokenly, "since I've touched you, since I've felt anything of you at all."

**So I'll hold tight to what I know**

She wades back to the cool, sandy shore to wearily sit down. Listening to the waves as they pound against the beach in the darkening night, she is lost in misery and doubt, adrift, rudderless and alone. Finally, she casts her mind back to their one day.

_"There will be times, for both of us," Will reached up to brush a stray lock of honey-coloured hair back from her cheek, "when we'll have to fight to hold on to what we have." He put a gentle finger to her lips, silencing the fierce denial she would have given voice to_. _As if she would *ever* falter!_

_"Ten years is a long time, Elizabeth. We both know that."_

_Will continued to kneel in front of her as she sat on one of the black rocks that littered the beach. With the sun shining so brightly behind her, her face was hidden in shadows as she gazed down into his eyes. _

_"You'll feel like you're alone, you'll be so very lonely. So will I," he said softly, remembering the feeling he was well acquainted with._

_She had the sudden memory of a young boy, standing at the rail of a naval vessel, staring out at the fathomless sea. His shoulders had been bowed under the weight of a future fraught with uncertainty. He had no one in the world, she realized, and that world_ _suddenly became a huge and terrifying place to her in the face of this stunning revelation. She hurried to stand next to him, wanting only to alleviate his terrible loneliness, and she slipped her hand into his. He gripped it tightly, turning his head to give her an wobbly little smile. He was trying so very desperately to be strong and brave._

_"But know this," Will's dark eyes were fierce with determination. "You will always be in my thoughts, I will find you in my dreams, I will love you down through time - for all of time - no matter how far apart we are. And I will never, ever surrender that."_

**You're here and I'm never alone**

She remembers his words, and with them come a torrent of memories - the good times, and the bad, everything in between. She closes her eyes, letting them all crash onto the shores of her remembrance.

She ponders the dreams of him that reside in her heart - cherished because they are moments where things are as they might have been, instead of what they really are.

She pictures their small son - how he will turn his head just so, or how she'll sometimes catch a certain line of his cheek, or the way he can hold himself so very determined - and her breath catches a little as she realizes once again how much like Will he truly is.

She stays for a long time, lost in all that they'd had, and all that might have been - no, all that should have been. The moon is high in the velvety midnight sky before she brings herself back to the reality of her life as it is now. But she no longer feels so very alone. She realizes that, as he'd said, he is with her in these things. And although it can never be anything close to what she wants, it is enough for now.

Getting to her feet, she moves to stand in the now gentle surf. She sends her love to Will from the quiet darkness of her world, telling him that she is keeping a weather eye on the horizon. Backing slowly out of the sea again, she turns to gather up her discarded shoes and stockings, and heads for home.


	2. deleted scene

She ponders the dreams of him that reside in her heart - cherished because they are moments where things are as they might have been, instead of what they really are.

_They'd long ago moved to an anonymous little fishing village, far away from the reach of the Crown. _

_Elizabeth stands in the doorway of the darkened blacksmith shop, taking in the scene before her. _

_Four year old William is perched on a nearby table, energetically kicking his feet. Will stands in front of him, tongs holding at a safe distance a length of heated steel that glows in the dimness._

_"What about this? What do you think?" he asks his son. "Is it ready to be worked?"_

_William stares at it uncertainly. "Don' know," he finally says._

_"That's called cherry heat. It's hot," Will patiently explains, "but It's not hot enough to be drawn out yet. So, what do you think we should do with it?"_

_"We ..." William ponders for a moment, a frown of fierce concentration on his face. When he reasons it out, his eyes light up and he grins. "We put it back in the fire," he exclaims confidently._

_"That's right," his father smiles in agreement. "We put it back in the fire." Will moves to place the steel back into the forge. "Very good," he commends, as he comes back to ruffle his son's hair._

_She'd sent William on ahead of her, to let Will know that she would be bringing him his lunch. __Their son's pleased expression at his father's praise catches her heart. She loves moments like this, when the two of them are together._

_"Mama!" William shouts when he suddenly spies her in the doorway. "Look at me! I'm helpin' Da!"_

_She can see Will stifle a laugh as, in one fluid motion, he lifts William from his perch and swings him high up in the air. Their son squeals in delight as his father catches him again, and then settles him in crook of his left arm. Will moves to where Elizabeth is standing, and reaches out to take the basket from her. His hands now full, he leans in to give her a lingering kiss._

_"Da," Williams says impatiently, "I'm hungry. Kiss Mama later."_

_Will breaks the caress, completely losing control over his amusement. He laughs out loud. "All right, all right," he says, to placate the small boy, "I'll kiss Mama later," and gives Elizabeth a wink. _

_They make their way to the bench that sits under a large tree in the smithy yard. After the stifling heat of the forge, Will especially relishes the open air. Soon, the family is enjoying a quick, simple mid-day meal._

She leaves the dream reluctantly, with a deep sigh and a slow turn of her body to lay on her back. Elizabeth throws an arm across her eyes, not wanting to open them just yet to see the emptiness of the bed beside her. She wants to relive the dream in her mind, to commit it to memory before it fades to shadow.

The dreams are always both a comfort and a torment, a true two-edged sword. He lives with them, and loves them, in her dreams the way he cannot when she's awake. They show her what should have been, not the cruel reality of what is. Yet, despite the pain they can sometimes cause her, she would be bereft without them.

Eventually, she becomes restless, and pulls her arm away, opening her eyes. The moon bathes her room with light, silvering some places and casting others into deep pools of darkness. Getting up, she leaves her bedchamber, moving down the short hallway to go check on her son.

At four years old, William sleeps hard, with all of a child's abandon, lying on his stomach, arms flung wide, silvered by the same moonlight streaming through his window. Unless he gets thirsty, or needs to use the chamber pot, he won't wake until morning, she knows.

Elizabeth leans against the door jamb, smiling at the sight of him, but there is a sadness in her eyes.

Will should be here to see this, she thinks. He is missing so much of his son's life. The three of them should have what they had in her dream.

She has long ago come to terms with their situation, but sometimes the anger, the sheer helpless rage against what _is_, can still wash over her. And the profound unfairness of it will take her breath, as it always does when she allows herself to think too closely about it.

Moving into the room, she kneels by William's bed. Tenderly, she brushes the curling hair off his forehead, hair that is so like his father's. She pulls his sheet up a little higher and tucks it around him, even though she knows he'll only kick it off again later. Leaning in, Elizabeth places a kiss on his cheek.

"That one," she whispers, "is from your Da."


End file.
